


If the mind is willing

by LivingInABox



Category: Super Sentai Series, Tokusou Sentai Dekaranger, 奋斗吧少年! | The Prince of Tennis (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingInABox/pseuds/LivingInABox
Summary: The flesh could go on and on without many things.
Relationships: Akaza "Ban" Banban/Tomasu "Hoji" Houji, Chí Dàyǒng/Táng Jiālè, Jì Jǐngwú/Mù Sīyáng
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. Imperial Pair

**Author's Note:**

> Severe writer block. My wip list is crying. Idk what I'm doing? :D This is my low-pressure words dumping ground. Welcome? Beware?
> 
> (If you want, send me a prompt for Chinapuri 2019, Hikaru no Go 2020, or Dekaranger.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imperial pair + jealousy for [Queen_of tennis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_oftennis/pseuds/Queen_oftennis) (1122)
> 
> Post-Series, Established Relationship

It wasn’t Mu Siyang’s kind of scene. 

He’d only made it through red velvety carpet and flashing cameras because of the hand Ji Jingwu placed on his back when he leaned in to murmur, “Relax. You look very handsome.” 

No one heard it, but it sped his heart up more than soothing it, and judging from the smirk tugging at Ji Jingwu’s lips, he knew it, too. 

Siyang was good at hiding his discomfort though, even amidst unfamiliar faces, glittering jewelry, and heavy scents of perfumes. 

He didn’t tug at the bow tie on his neck or fiddle with the cufflinks Ji Jingwu’d chosen for him, instead he walked with head held high and clung onto the triple beats from Shostakovich.

(Like it was played from Jingwu’s vintage record player back at his mansion, and Jingwu had jokingly put on the air of a maestro, fingers waving playfully, looking all soft in his cashmere.)

Here he was sharp edges cut from a perfectly tailored dark tux and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was deemed charming enough for their companies, Siyang supposed, from the way the two women seemed to fawn over it.

“This is Mu Siyang, my friend,” Ji Jingwu introduced him. The word grated at his ears and he hid it with an incline of his head, still not exactly sure why that garnered giggles around them.

“Mu Siyang? The famous tennis player from Germany?” Shiny satin and red lipstick hid a big smile behind designed nails and a diamond on her pinky. 

Her friend in pink chiffon latched a hand on Ji Jingwu’s elbow and stage-whispered, “Jingwu, how do you know all the handsome men?” She was too close, eyelashes fluttering and lips pouty, and her friend rolled her eyes at the antic. 

“Oh, I think I know plenty of beautiful women,” Ji Jingwu played along, and they laughed again. Shiny satin, perhaps didn’t want to lose at the game, used the opportunity to grab onto Siyang’s arm as well.

“Is he always like this?” she asked, and Siyang sucked in a breath, not sure what to say because no, Ji Jingwu to him had _never_ been like this. (He was fingertips trailing on Siyang’s lips, nose in his neck, and unkempt hair below his chin.)

He was saved from answering as Ji Jingwu swooped in, their shoulders brushing.

“Hey, no talking behind my back with my friend.” That successfully shifted her focus, she seemed to enjoy having Ji Jingwu’s attention, and Siyang fell back to the background, settling into the contact between them (the same way they did on cold nights outside of Siyang’s balcony.)

He had expected the economy, mergers, business deals, everything that Ji Jingwu seemed to be fluent in these days, not...this. 

And maybe Siyang wasn’t hiding it as well as he thought because Ji Jingwu’s gaze caught his attention briefly, right as he dipped his head to hear whatever chiffon was whispering.

‘Alright?’ 

No, of course not alright, because anymore closer and she might as well smear lipstick all over his face. Siyang swallowed and nodded, because what else could he do? 

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” he said and stepped away before they could hold him back, weaving through strangers cautiously, aiming with the bar as the target. 

Behind him, he heard Ji Jingwu adding, “Siyang is shy.” 

“Is it a tennis player thing?”

“I play tennis, am I shy?”

“No way, Jingwu? Shy?” Again the giggles erupted. And ‘my friend’ bounced back and forth in Siyang's head like a long rally. 

\--

Siyang didn’t normally drink; he had never found the taste for alcohol, but he helped himself to a flute of champagne and leaned back to watch Ji Jingwu waved goodbye to satin and chiffon. 

He took a sip when another group of women sauntered over, now in different color dresses, more glamorous jewelry, and one gave Ji Jingwu what looked like a kiss on the cheek from this distance. 

It was the same old play, laugh, lean, flutter eyelashes, leave. 

A mouthful. Or two. He asked for a second one.

The next girl though, a petite looking one in a modest cocktail in white, was cute the same way Qi Ying could only stand up to his chest.

She was different, Siyang gathered, because a wide grin bloomed on Ji Jingwu’s face and he came alive. (Animated, and bright like he’d just seen Siyang at the arrival lobby.) 

Ji Jingwu let her throw arms around his neck and lifted her off the ground for a hug, tight and long, and Siyang turned away.

He knew what coming meant. He knew Ji Jingwu lived a different life now, but _still_. 

(The memory of Jingwu on green grass court was fresh, Nike’s polo had stuck to his back instead of expensive dress shirt, and he’d carded wet hair back and asked, “Again?” for the umpteenth time. Siyang never said no.)

Much later, fingers plucked the glass from his grip, and Ji Jingwu drained the last bit from it, neck bobbing, lips glistening when he said, “Sorry, it took me a while to get back to you.”

“You like her.” Siyang didn’t mean to say, but the champagne was sweet, and it loosened his tongue. 

Ji Jingwu knew who he meant right away. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Jianan? Yes, she’s a friend.”

“The same way I am a friend?” He didn’t mean to say that either. They talked about this. Ji Jingwu’s father had made himself clear in this matter.

“Her husband, President Lu, does share my exceedingly good look. And she’s a _very_ close friend to him.” Ji Jingwu cupped a hand on his neck, thumb caressing the skin there, and Siyang exhaled, feeling increasingly idiotic.

“If it makes you feel better, they’re all engaged. It’s just harmless fun to them.”

There were kisses, lingering handholds, and the inappropriate distance-- “No, not really.” 

Ji Jingwu laughed, and Siyang allowed himself to sink against Ji Jingwu’s side for a moment, eyes closed, uncertainty abated by the moment. “I may have had a bit too much.”

“I know.” Ji Jingwu’s hand trailed from his neck, down his back, easy like they were the only ones in the room.

“I know you have to. But I really didn’t like it.” 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Ji Jingwu promised.

Siyang righted himself and pushed from his seat, challenging, “How?” 

And Ji Jingwu, never once backed down in his life, dared to press his lips to Siyang’s ear and muttered details unsuitable for outside of their bedroom. 

But in this sort of place, Siyang figured it’d appear like harmless fun between friends or _whatever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jianan and President Lu (Boyan) are from Love in Time, Ming Ren’s drama hahaha. (Haven’t used parentheses since way back when… might have been too excited and spammed them…)
> 
> No clue what this is, but hope you enjoy, Pam!


	2. Golden Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Golden pair + garden for [Vindeflei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weidnad) (1399)
> 
> Post-Series, Established Relationship

When Jiale said to come over, Dachi expected the usual movie and dinner on the couch, the way they usually ate when Jiale’s mom wasn’t around to enforce the no food in the living room rule. And maybe some cuddle, then tennis. 

Well, he expected anything but the orange picnic blanket splaying on the yard in front, taking up space in between the tomato plants and herbs and pots of daisy belonged to the Tang sisters. Not to mention the flickering candles forming a heart shape beside it. Were those rose petals next to the basket and wine glasses--

Dachi, dressed in basketball shorts and a hoodie (one he stole from Jiale last time he stayed over,) tennis bag hanging on one shoulder, hair still damp from his shower earlier, felt incredibly underdressed.

“Jiale?” he called out, venturing in when the doorbell didn’t receive any attention; no one else seemed to be home.

Dahui greeted him first, running over with toenails clicking on the wooden floor and tail wagging, and Dachi bent to give her scratches just as Jiale barreled out from the kitchen.

“Dachi! Why are you here already?! You’re too early, I’m nowhere near finished!” Then he rushed back to whatever he was absorbed in, and Dachi was left to wonder if he saw it correctly. 

“Hello to you too?” He left his bag and shoes by the door, stepping inside, and no, he wasn’t wrong, that  _ was _ an apron tied around Jiale’s waist. Dachi came up from behind and peeked over his shoulder--swirly white frosting--cupcake? “What are you doing?” 

Jiale spun around, cream on the corner of his mouth, and Dachi couldn’t help a smile as he caught frantic waving hands in his, and they shuffled a step away from the stove in sync like this was tennis. “Don’t look! I’m not done!” 

“Done with what?” Dachi honed in on the bandage wrapping on Jiale’s forefinger, running his thumb over it and feeling something stinging as if it was his own finger injured, ‘you should be more careful’ readied in the back of his throat. But Jiale probably didn’t need him nagging on the weekend on top of every day they spent together at school. 

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, you’re ruining it!” Jiale’s bottom lip poked out, nose and brows scrunched up, the way they did when he whined about working out, or Dachi ignoring him for the sake of math homework. 

“I am surprised.” Jiale eating was a common sight, Jiale cooking, however, was a first. Dachi swiped the cream off Jiale’s face and impulsively brought it to his lips. Sweet. (Or that was just Jiale.) Not bad at all. “ _ Very  _ surprised.” 

That took Jiale off guard for his brows to smooth out before they squished back even more and he hit Dachi’s chest. “You--are you trying to distract me--” Dachi bellowed out a laugh as Jiale hustled him out of the kitchen, ears pinking, saying, “Out, out.” 

Well, at least Dahui wanted his company.

\--

Eventually, Jiale brought out the cupcakes, a mini set of eight, and they settled outside next to each other on the blanket. Jiale had a pop song played from his phone and pulled out from the basket sandwiches and fruit salad and bottled juices that he insisted had to be poured into the glasses. 

At this point, Dachi was convinced everything was ripped straight out of a love advice blog. He leaned onto his palms, finally asking, “So will you tell me what this is about now?” 

Jiale turned incredulous eyes at him, the effect intensified at their close distance. "You don't remember?"

Remember? What Dachi remembered was an upcoming date, circled in red, and brainstorming sessions that led to nowhere, and he still didn't know what to prepare for-- _ oh _ .

“Our anniversary?” Jiale continued. 

“The one next week?” At that Jiale’s disbelief crumbled into horror, and he slapped a hand over his forehead, slumping over himself in despair.

“I got it wrong, didn’t I?” 

Dachi hummed. To be fair to Jiale, twelve and twenty-one was easy to be mistaken. He couldn't hold back a snicker, and Jiale raised his head, betrayed by it. Then a beat of silence, and they burst into laughter like this was some prime time comedic sketch.

It was a very Jiale thing to do. Dachi watched him--smile wide and warm hue coloring his skin--and felt his chest so full of affection, awe, and if he dared to dream, devotion (that had him thinking about kneeling on one knee, and silver band, and Jiale's hands in his.)

“Come here,” Dachi said, tugging on Jiale’s shirt--the very nice looking shirt Jiale only brandished out on special occasions, Dachi should have known. Jiale went along, letting Dachi press a kiss onto his lips, murmuring, “Thank you.” 

All of this, Jiale did for  _ him _ . If there was any doubt he was special to Jiale, anything his mind conjured up late at night on days he felt inadequate, felt like Jiale deserved someone who wasn't him, someone better, then no such thing was there now. 

But words were hard, so Dachi kissed him again, sliding his hand onto Jiale’s neck as he was pushed onto his back.

Jiale propped himself on his elbow, huffing, “In the beginning, I  _ was _ thinking the twenty-first, then I second-guessed myself--I can't believe I got the wrong date! And I put in so much work--”

“Hey,” Dachi interrupted. “It doesn’t have to be an anniversary for us to do things like this, you know that right?” 

Jiale paused but wasn’t disagreeing. “Dachi, you're so sappy sometimes.”

“Uh-huh, and the candles and roses?”

“Baidu said that was standard!”

Before the pout could get worse, Dachi hurried to assure Jiale, fingers curling into his hair, “I'm joking, I'm very happy.”

“Well, that's fine then, as long as you're happy I guess.” The pout was gone when Jiale brought their mouths together again. 

There was one thing Dachi had to know though. “Is this why no one is at home?” 

“Do you really want to talk about my family when I’m kissing you?”

“How did you manage to convince your parents we aren’t having--”

“ _ Dachi.” _

\--

+

A whine. 

It would have been embarrassing if it was his, but it wasn’t, Dachi was pretty sure. 

Jiale broke off from the kiss, lips swollen. “That wasn’t me.” 

Scratching noise on the porch’s door drew their attention, and Dahui stared at them from inside the living room, eyes glassy and sounds of misery rang clearly to their spot.

“I swore I fed her,” Jiale groaned, plopping his head onto Dachi’s shoulder. 

“I think she wants to join us,” Dachi commented, sitting up as Jiale reluctantly went to slide the door open.

“If she eats all the sandwiches, it’s all your fault,” Jiale said, but Dachi knew Jiale couldn’t say no to Dahui even if he tried his hardest. Besides, Dahui was a good girl, he wasn’t worried.

Said good girl bounced out, running circles around Jiale’s legs before clambering onto Dachi’s lap to give him kisses. She was similar to her owner in that regard, he supposed.

When she was calmed enough to lie beside him, munching on her portion of the fruit salad, Jiale watched him expectantly when he took his turn with the sandwich--pork cutlet with shredded cabbage filling. “So?”

“Delicious,” he said. “Are you sure you made this?” 

“Hey! I can cook if I try to!” Jiale shoved at his arm, but then admitted with less enthusiasm at Dachi’s knowing smile. “Okay, so Er-Jie helped me out a little bit.” 

At his raised eyebrow, Jiale added, “Fine. A lot.” And a chuckle rumbled out of him again. That made more sense.

“ _ But _ the cupcake is all me. Xiao Ying gave me the recipe, and I made them from scratch. I even bought the tennis ball decorations myself,” Jiale bragged, puffing up his chest. 

It did sound impressive when he put it like that, and Dachi left his half-eaten food for the dessert. 

The cupcake was dense, crumbly more than airy; there was the familiar taste of creamy frosting before everything mixed and somehow ended up rather...salty. 

Dachi didn’t know how Jiale’d managed to achieve that feat, he grabbed another one anyway.  “Best thing I’ve ever eaten.” 

And Jiale's face lit up as if Dachi had just promised they'd be partners until the end of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember if Eiji’s dog has a name, but since Jiale’s border collie (?) has black and white fur, I randomly call her Dahui 大灰 (big grey? hahaha). The song I’m thinking of is Xia Hu’s Those Bygone Years. 
> 
> First time writing GP, not sure if I got the dynamic right, but I hope you like it, Cat!


	3. BanHoji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BanHoji + new year's party for anon (2260)
> 
> FIOLOL-verse, Post-Series, Established Relationship, OC, Slight Gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIOLOL-verse bc I’m very attached to married BH; I promise it’s not sad ;; it is a bit self-indulgent though as always

Hoji wasn’t sad. 

Maybe a tad disappointed once he received the call, and Ban’s sigh preceded his words. “Sorry, I know I promise, but--”

He’d swallowed down the lump in his throat then. It was his fault for having expectations in the first place. He knew what’d entail when he let Ban leave with only a ring on his finger and a promise to meet again on his lips. 

He knew of the distance, of their job, and of the unpredictability that was Ban (for Ban was a blazing wildfire burning where the wind took him--and it took him far from home.)

They had no control over this like they had no control over the weather, or the universe or the activity of the band of arms dealers F.S. had been chasing for more than a year.

“There’s a new lead,” Ban said. “It’s time-sensitive, I have to check it out.” _I can’t make it back_ , he didn’t have to say.

Hoji hummed, “Okay. Be careful.” It was work, and work was important; what else could Hoji do aside from accepting it?

“Partner--”

“It’s fine Ban, I’ll see you later.” And that was that, and Hoji had a fridge full of groceries, and no clue on what to do with himself now that his plan was canceled. So last minute, too, as it was new year's eve, and Ban _was_ supposed to arrive this afternoon. 

He could drop by the Kitayama household. Miwa had invited him weeks ago, citing the twins--eight-year-old boisterous balls of sunshine as opposed to their teenage brother--really missed their favorite uncle, despite the fact he was their only uncle. 

Or he could show up at Jasmine’s. Her door was always opened--a fact that she had cemented in his brain since her bachelorette party, where she was drunk and emotional, and blubbering on his shoulder, “You are my best friend--just because we’re both married now doesn’t change anything, understand?”

But he didn’t feel up for either of the options, all sense of festivity died down when he hung up the phone. Family or not, it’ll feel like an intrusion at this point. 

Not to mention, he really didn’t want to explain his husband’s abrupt absence (again.) Nor did he want their sympathetic smiles or his moping self to rain upon everyone’s joyful mood. Not that Hoji was moping. He wasn’t.

He was a pro. 

He made it through over a decade of long-distance, he can deal with not seeing Ban for a while longer, okay. (The uncertainty of _next time_ brought a twinge to his chest nevertheless.)

The plan was to stay at his house off base, so Hoji had spent the entirety of yesterday deep cleaning, which was satisfying looking back, but now, it only made the place feel cold and bare (and so lonely.) 

He shrugged on his coat, heading out. Immediately, winter air delved in between layers of his clothes, soaking in his bones and numbing the yearning rooted there, and he embraced it, breaths fogging white, and legs moving forward, it was another day. 

\--

Tetsu was in the meeting room, typing away at something on the holoscreen when Hoji stepped out from the lift. He raised his head. “Hoji-san? What are you doing here? Where’s senpai?”

Between Hoji and Ban, it was a surprise that the kid--well, not so much of a kid anymore with him being Earth Branch’s Commander since Boss retired--took after Hoji’s workaholic tendency.

He practically volunteered to stay on call as everyone else gallivanted off to somewhere in pairs--Sen and Umeko, Boss and Swan-san, even Ren and Rei, the new red and yellow, weren’t around. It was fortunate that for the first time, things weren’t so hectic around the holidays to call for overtime. 

“Work.” Hoji plopped onto a chair; he figured that that case with the missing corpse could use another glance. “Like us.”

“Oh.” Tetsu was probably very clear with Tokkyou level workload. “In that case, do you want to head somewhere with me after? I’m finishing up soon.” 

Hoji hummed an agreement, and they fell to silence, keyboard clacking, and soft exhales. It was kind of sad thinking about it, that the last time their team celebrated together had been so long ago.

Since Ban left, something shifted, and Tetsu, who’d tried his best to fill in Ban’s shoes, shone brilliantly, but not at all the same. 

If Ban was the fire that kept them close, huddling together around him for warmth, then Tetsu was light, and he, too, was warm, (but light made the distance between all of them more apparent as time passed.) 

Perhaps, he only felt this way because he missed Ban more than he’d like to admit. 

Hoji thought he was used to wanting, and not having; he thought he could bury these feelings deep in some corner of his chest and they’d dissipate on their own. 

He was wrong--Ban’s voice, the feel of short hair at the back of Ban’s nape, Ban’s smile with eyes crinkling, Ban’s lips pressing onto his jaw in between sleepy mumbles-- and everything _overflowed_ as if the deepest abyss still couldn’t contain how much feelings Hoji held for this man.

Hoji gripped tight onto the ring around his neck, mind furthest from the crime scene photos when Tetsu tapped on his shoulder and closed out his file. He didn’t even have the heart to protest.

“Come on.” Tetsu patted his back as if he knew, but then again, Tetsu had always been the most perceptive one. 

“Around this time, I keep having nightmares about Baacho,” Tetsu said as they left, shuddering at memories more than the temperature, hands shoving in his pockets. He’d switched out his uniform for turtleneck and trench coat, looking stark white walking beside Hoji. 

Hoji huffed a laugh. “The fact that you think of him until this day meant he was somewhat successful in wooing you.” 

Tetsu cringed. “Please don’t joke about this, it was a scarring experience to my young heart.”

And Hoji let Tetsu draw him into conversations about nonsense, but they ebbed away the longing just a little bit. 

Which was why he didn’t think to question where they were going until they’d arrived at a house? 

White paint and brown of wood with a second floor and decently sized front yard. It wasn’t far from base, almost on the outskirts of the residential area, quiet, ideal for people of their age and temperament, he supposed. 

But Tetsu had a spacious apartment on Deka Base, a big improvement from their dorm room before the renovation, there was no reason for him to purchase another place, was there?

Hoji raised his eyebrow at Tetsu, who only shrugged, his smile tinted with mischief as he pushed the door open. “Welcome home,” Tetsu said. 

Before Hoji could even discern what that could mean, the light flashed on, multiple sounds of popping surrounded him, and glossy paper and colorful strings snowed from above, landing all over his hair and clothes. 

His body tensed and hand latched onto his SP license on instinct, but two small bodies barrelled into him, and he immediately recognized the twins as they grabbed onto his waist, screaming in unison, “Ji-chan!” “You’re here!” 

Hoji’s mouth hung as he half-heartedly held onto the kids, taking in the sight and sound as if this was _the_ magnum opus that brought wonderment, confusion, and a chord reverberating so strongly inside him yet he couldn’t put a word to it.

There was Miwa with her husband and their eldest; she still had the party popper in her hand. Jasmine waved from beside them as Hikaru lifted Taiga’s tiny hand to mirror his mother. 

He received Boss’s nod and could hear a small pleased growl when Swan-san leaned on his side, her smile was the sweetest. 

Then there was Sen-chan and his penchant to take photos with their license, Umeko and her paper tube that uncoiled when she blew onto it, even the Ren-Rei duo seemed to have put away their differences to dorn matching party hats. 

Even Marigold was here, standing beside Lisa Teagle, who Tetsu had immediately wandered over to exchange hugs. 

In the center of everyone though, cladding in eye-catching red regulation pants that clashed horribly with the blue-on-black hoodie he’d stolen from Hoji years ago, was Ban. 

Ban and his wide grin, bright eyes, with arms opened as if Hoji was going to run into his embrace any second (the thought did cross his mind.) 

“Surprise,” Ban said, voice achingly familiar and foreign at the same time when there wasn’t static warping it. How many months had it been since he’d last heard it?

Hoji sucked in a breath. 

“You all know about this?” His voice broke first, then his lips quivered, and the pressure within his chest built for one moment, burst in the next, and it was not a slow spill rising over the brim like earlier, but a rupture blasting and exposing all that he’d tried so hard to reign in. 

Water welled up under his lids and he hastily pressed his fingertips to his eyes before any could escape. 

“Oh, hey, hey, don’t cry--” Then there was Ban’s chest, Ban’s smell, and Hoji wasn’t sure if that helped or made it worse. “Everyone, help yourself to the food, we’re getting some air!” Hoji heard, then he was ushered back outside, Ban’s arm around him, and the shutting door separated them from friends and family for some privacy.

He heaved shaky breaths into Ban’s neck, fingers gripping onto his jacket, clinging on as if for dear life, “What the hell, Ban--I really thought you couldn’t come--”

Ban hugged him tight, holding on, pressing kisses onto his temple. “You know that thing SPD R&D was working on with Jasmine?” 

Hoji wracked his brain, it was hard to think of anything work-related when Ban was a solid presence against him, fingers carding in his hair. 

“So they finally got the teleportation system up and running a couple of months ago--” What? “With my upcoming promotion, I kind of got first dibs--” _What?_ “And might have impulsively bought us a house, I know we have your family house, and you got your room on Base, but this one has both of our names on it.”

Hoji drew back in disbelief, overloaded with information. “You bought--this is ours?” That certainly explained Tetsu’s comment.

“We should have done this together, but there was a really good opportunity, and I really _really_ wanted to surprise you. I swear it meets every one of your criteria, y’know, from when we talked about it.” 

Was that what Ban’s myriad of random questions was about? When he really wanted to know if Hoji prefer the master bedroom upstairs or downstairs and what was a decent size for a kitchen--

At Hoji’s mute reaction, Ban’s nerve seemed to fray and he rambled on, “I haven’t done much shopping, so you can choose the furniture or curtains or decorations--if you don’t like it, I’m sure I can figure out something, and we can look for another place--” 

Hoji’s lungs drew in sharp air as he surged forward to catch the rest of Ban’s sentence in his mouth, tasting and feeling all of Ban’s sincerity and love and hope for the future. Together, he’d said.

Ban brought them closer, kissing Hoji slow and deep and lingering until Hoji pulled away, then a smile etched on his lips as their foreheads connected. “So, want to move in with me, partner?” he asked, and Hoji choked up a laugh.

“Idiot, do you even have to ask--” _Of course_ , he wanted to. They'd lived apart from each other the majority of their relationship, moving in was only the first thing Hoji had wanted.

Before this, he didn’t dare to think about it, not before touching the idea of retirement, and they were both too attached to their work for that train of thought.

“You’re really staying,” Hoji said aloud like a reconfirmation for his own ears.

“It’s my house, too, so I sure hope so,” Ban replied cheekily, thumb wiping at the tears on Hoji’s face. “Well, I might be away for cases, but when I’m done--”

“You can come home. To me,” Hoji muttered, feeling out the words on his tongue, then against the corner of Ban’s mouth as Ban hummed in agreement. 

Home. Theirs. Ban. (Ban was his home.)

“I’m assuming you’re happy with your surprise.”

“I can’t believe you made me cry in front of everyone,” Hoji only responded.

That got a cackle out of Ban. “Don’t worry, most of them have seen you at Miwa-chan’s wedding.” 

It was a fair point. But either way, Hoji didn’t feel one bit embarrassed when they returned to the midst of children’s laughter, and buzzing conversations, to whiffs of soba broth in the air and the circuity scent from tangerines. 

They were bombarded with hugs, pats on the back, and teasing remarks, and Hoji’s cheeks ached; he can’t stop smiling. Through all of this, Ban’s arm slung over his shoulders, and he didn’t once leave Hoji’s side. And contentment was seeping from every pore of his body and drenched him in a dizzying elation. 

Later, when they piled into the living room for the count-down playing on the TV, Ban pressed his grin onto Hoji’s ear. “So intergalactic-marriage is obsolete now, huh, partner.” 

Hoji’s lips twitched at the corner. “Why can’t you say happy new year like a normal person?”

Ban’s laugh rang in his ear, sounding better than fireworks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marigold x Lisa Teagle was a ship I hadn’t considered until I wrote this, and I have to say, I’m all for it. Maybe I can churn out something short for them soon hahaha
> 
> I deviated from the prompt quite a bit, but I hope you still like it, anon!


End file.
